


Backstage Pass

by nbarker1990



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7525852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbarker1990/pseuds/nbarker1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a routine to touring, a predictable cycle of this, that and the other that makes it easy to focus on what really matters – connecting to and entertaining the audiences.</p><p>aka pure fluff about Gwen and Blake and touring and the kids...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backstage Pass

There’s a routine to touring, a predictable cycle of this, that and the other that makes it easy to focus on what really matters – connecting to and entertaining the audiences. The traveling, the soundchecks, the endless orders for food become white noise to her, and she’s left with those few hours onstage. There’s a pressure to it but it’s one she’s embraced for almost all of her life, and she chooses to think of it as an opportunity, not a burden.

Seven years is a long time, though, and there are definite differences she’s noticed, not necessarily in how the crowd responds (although the idea that there are fans who weren’t even alive when Hollaback Girl was released kind of freaks her out), but in how she’s feeling about it all. There’s a definite gratefulness now that she suspects was absent last time, maybe because she was just so fucking worn out and busy with the babies, or maybe just because of everything that’s gone down during the past year and a half.

 

“Hon, we’re going to need you to get dressed soon, ‘kay?”

She nods at Danilo but doesn’t move, just snuggles closer to the warm weight under her. Her boyfriend’s in a dark burgundy plaid tonight, one she’d cajoled him into wearing, and its newness gives it even more softness than his other shirts. She loves that, rubs her cheek against it and inhales. “Can we just stay here?”

“And miss you kickin’ ass onstage? I don’t think so. ‘sides, you know how excited Zuma is about tonight.”

“He’s an attention-seeker, that’s why.”

Blake lets out a short laugh, nudges his nose into the crook of her neck. “So strange that a child of two rockstars would be like that, really…”

“Oh, shut up. Not like you can act above it all. You literally milked that applause for all it was worth the other night.”

“Can’t help it that your fans adore me even more than y’all do.”

She blows a raspberry at him, grins when he chases it with a deep, toe-curling kiss. After all, they both know the likelihood that anybody (except maybe his mom) loves Blake more than she does is hovering around zero. They don’t really have the time for a make-out (which seriously pisses her off) and she can feel the frustration in the way he holds himself back from her, literally putting her hands on her hips to keep her from grinding down onto him too much. She does it anyway.

“You know the boys are goin’ to come charging in here any minute, right?”

“Mmm, I do,” she concedes, her tongue licking a path from his jawline down to his collarbone. “It’s like that acclimatizing thing, y’know, like that people who climb mountains do. I’m just trying to get them used to us being this way so we don’t scar them too much later on.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Walking in on us having sex isn’t like climbing Kilimanjaro, sunshine.”

“Fuck off. My analogies are great.”

Blake’s hands creep up under the loose tank she’s wearing, rough fingertips lightly tracing up and down her stomach. He’s touched her millions of times by now, probably, and yet it never fails to elicit a tingle, a burst of want and desire that still sometimes surprises her. Because who knew, right?

“They are,” she insists, wriggling a little on top of him, grinning when his eyes shut momentarily. It’s his way of concentrating, he says, because just looking at her is enough to make him hard. It’s tempting to test his self-control but he’s right; she has a show to do and the door is wide open. They’d left the kids on the bus, King having solemnly sworn he’d come and get them if anything went wrong. Sighing heavily, she gives him one last kiss before climbing off him, being careful not to elbow him in the gut.

 

He jerks a thumb towards the door. “I’ll bring the boys to the dressing room?”

“Sure thing. Just make sure they’ve got their shoes on, ‘kay? We probably won’t have time to go back and get them before the show.” Gwen grabs his hand as he approaches, squeezes it lightly. “We’re seriously going to regret letting them all stay up.”

“I sleep like the dead, so any regrets will be yours, I’m afraid…” he says, giving her a casual wave as he leaves.

And he’s not wrong. She can still remember one night just after he’d started staying over while the kids were home. Apollo had been suffering with some kind of virus and had screamed half the night, and Zuma and King had been unable to sleep because of it. It had taken until they’d climbed onto the bed and literally started bouncing that Blake had woken up, looking slightly bemused but also completely ready to help. It was then she’d known they’d made the right decision, that she wasn’t moving too quickly after all.

 

The moment she’s finished applying her lipstick, she hears them at the door to her dressing room. All her boys. Blake has Apollo in his arms, her youngest playing with the stupidly adorable stuffed moose toy that they’d picked up for him during their last stop in Canada, and the older two are having some kind of tussle over her boyfriend’s iPhone. He doesn’t seem to mind but she steps in, grabs it and shoves it in her pocket.

“Uh uh. If you’re going to behave like that, you’re more than welcome to stay on the bus and have an early night.”

Kingston glowers a little, but, mercifully, they both agree.

“Okay. So you know the drill, right? No coming onto the stage until I say you can. If you’re feeling tired or get nervous, you don’t have to, though. Poppy will be sitting with you and Blake, and you can stay with him instead.”

“We’re comin’ on, Mom,” Zuma insists, pointing at his shirt. “I totally got dressed up and I told my friends I’d be on YouTube, so I’m not missin’ out now.”

Blake tussles her middle child’s hair, laughs. “We know, buddy. Hey, how about we let your Momma finish getting ready and we’ll grab some snacks before we go backstage, ‘kay?”

They leave again, Kingston matching Blake stride for stride, while Zuma darts back and forth. It’s still a little strange to her, the realization that her family is different now. There’s still a sense of loss (because she’d truly thought she’d be able to create – and keep – what she desperately wanted), but mostly she just feels contentment and peace, along with an appreciation of what she’s gained.

 

Todd’s hands on her shoulders make her start, and she turns to face him. “Hey sis, everything good?”

She throws her arms around her brother, letting herself just fall into her feelings. It’s almost the end of the tour and she’s dying to get back to her other routine (the new house needs decorating and she’s itching to get started), but she’s going to miss this as well. “It’s all good,” she admits, letting him push the loose strands of hair back behind her ears. “Just a little emotional tonight, y’know.”

“The boys still wanna come out?”

“Of course. We think we’ll probably get them out before we do the duet, just in case Apollo tires early and needs to go to bed, y’know.”

“I ran into them back there,” Todd acknowledges. “If you’re not careful, Blake’s going to love that kid more than you. He had the dopiest smile on his face.”

She gives her brother a big smile. “I know.”

 

She always says it but she swears the show is the best so far. The audience are insane and, more importantly, every time she shoots a quick look towards where her family are, Blake’s cheering and the boys are craning their heads to get a better view.

Stumbling over the words of a song is never a good look but when she fucks up a line in Rare (of all songs), she knows it’s because the nerves are taking over. She tries to be careful about exposing the kids, both exposing them to fame and fans to _them_ , and there’s really no reason to worry about bringing them out (they’ve all done it before, after all), but her stomach is slightly unsettled anyway. But she needs people to see how proud she is, how fantastic her life is.

“Okay,” she says, as the last notes of the song die away and she steps up to the front of the stage. “So - ”

Someone a few rows back screeches Blake’s name and she can’t stop the laugh from bubbling over. Her fans are nutcases but she couldn’t love a group of random unknowns more.

“I thought tonight I would give you a special treat. All my family’s here tonight,” (and Blake’s too, she mentally adds) she says to a loud cheer. “And my boys are going crazy backstage. They all want to say hi and - ”

Suddenly she feels two small arms wrapping around her legs, a little body slamming into the back of her.

“Oompf. Well, someone’s a little excited,” she says, laughing into the mic. Before she can even turn, Blake’s there, scooping Apollo up in his arms. “And there comes my savior.” Gwen presses a quick kiss to her boyfriend’s lips. “Did you actually run over here? So impressed, babe.”

Pulling back, she takes a look over his shoulder, sees her older boys looking like they want to come over but not sure if they’re allowed. She nods, and nudges Blake so he can watch them make their way over. Both of them are buzzing, staring wide-eyed at the audience as she gently pushes them in front of her.

“And here they are. My family.”

 

The audience roars in delight and she lets it wash over her, blinking rapidly as she feels the tears start. Damn. It’s inevitable that she’s going to become a watering pot as the tour winds down, but if she could avoid it in the freaking middle of the actual gig that would be good…

Blake’s free arm snakes around her, a familiar grounding presence. “They love you so much,” he whispers into her air. “Look at them.”

She does, lets herself take in the rapturous expressions of the crowd, tries to comprehend the way so many people _KNOW_ her, want the best for her. And she has the best now, she knows that.

“So do we, y’know. The boys and I couldn’t be more proud.”

One of the things she’d always missed in her marriage (had even been aware of at the time) was that sense that her Gavin was proud of her, that he could be happy for her – completely – without any kind of resentment or envy. She’d tried to understand, but she’d always secretly wished for more, that maybe one day he would realize that he was sooooo amazing to her, so loved by her, and that her own accomplishments didn’t take away from that. It had never happened, though.

She starts as Blake grabs the microphone from her hand. “This little man wants to say a quick hello, he tells me.” Her boyfriend holds it up to Apollo’s mouth, his face so completely adoring that she has to wipe at her eyes, put pressure there so the tears don’t come out. Apollo mumbles something into the microphone, pretty much completely unintelligibly. It still has the audience cheering like he just came up with a cure for cancer... Blake takes it back, and she leans into him, grabbing Kingston and Zuma’s hands in her own so they don’t wander off. “I know this is a Gwen Stefani concert and it’s her home territory and my mouth should probably stay shut, but…” He trails off, presses a quick kiss to her head. “I just want to say thanks to y’all. It means a lot. To both of us.”

He offers her the mic but she doesn’t want it. Instead, she almost squashes Apollo between them as she throws her arms around his neck, pressing soft kisses there as she tries to ignore the thundering noise from a few feet away from her. They can deal. She needs Blake to know. “I love you,” she says. “I love you I love you I love you.”

He mimes it back, his lips curved upwards in a smile that has her wanting to just drag him back to the bus. Carefully, her boyfriend kneels down on the ground, letting Apollo clamber down to stand with his brothers. He nods at Kingston and her oldest son (she suddenly sees him as he’ll be in a few years, a young man, and she feels a tightness in his chest) leads his brothers backstage, only shooting one glance back at her, a small grin playing across his lips.

“I love him,” she says loudly and emphatically into the mic. “I never could’ve imagined singing this next song with this person, like couldn’t have imagined even knowing him. But I couldn’t be more grateful.” She lets go of his hand. “Go and grab your guitar, Blake.”


End file.
